Nothing makes me want to die quite like the end of a road trip. It is just so, very hard with little ones. I am writing a note to myself, literally, to never ever attempt the drive to the south when visiting family. Airplanes are my friend.
Rob kept reminding me of single moms…with eight kids…and no money…addicted to heroin…oppressed by the system…and it went on and on, you can only imagine. So…true, things could have been worse.
I was just already a little edgy from our busy beach/wedding weekend. “Vacations” are just not really a thing when you’re a mom. It is work to be out of town while still trying to keep all your plates spinning. And definitely work to keep them all spinning when your husband is in the wedding and out of pocket for good chunks of the weekend.
Ok, now that Negative Nancy has spoken, it’s on to the highlights. Rob has a friend from high school, and he and his family are like the most wonderfully-accomplished, generous, sweet people you could ever hope to know. They are unforgettable, because they are just the nicest. So when they offered to accomodate our little family at a beach resort for the wedding weekend, we were like, um, yes! EBug was about the cutest, sweetest little thing anticipating this beach trip. In the days leading up, all she could talk about, think about, pretend about was going to the beach. Girl loves her some sand and some waves. Who can blame her! Brother Bear was equally into the whole thing! He would run without any fear straight into the waves. One of the most hilarious parts to me was seeing his determination in setting out to conquer those waves, and then the tiniest, I mean tiniest, wave would knock him right over. But he would pop right up and head out for another. Such a lovable little guy. Oh, I could squeeze him. E was very into being at a “house called a hotel.” We were all in one room, and it could not have gone better. I was curious how naps and bed times would go, but the kids did great. Brother Bear is a champion sleeper, and Ev has really mastered whispering, so it all worked out.
One funny tidbit I don’t want to forget is when E saw a motorcycle drive past the hotel parking lot she said, “Maybe when I’m four I can get a motorcycle since I have a helmet. I was thinking about that.” Classic. Then it was off to the wedding. Twas, after all, the reason we were there. Taking these two hoodlums into the tiny, yet packed out, beach chapel was one of the worst decisions of my life. EBug kept standing on the pew lifting her dress to the ceiling, refusing to be told she needed to stop displaying her hot pink undies. While I tried to get her to put her dress down, Brother Bear was busy doodling-up every hymnal he could get his hands on. I would try to hand him one of the pew’s little scribble pads, and he would promptly take it from my hand, put it back on the shelf, and reach for another beloved hymnal to destroy. So we lasted all of about 20 minutes. When the bride walked in, we walked out. It was for the best. We found a little secret garden behind the church and the hoodlums transitioned into garden explorers. She is always instructing him. Are those the pew pencils in his hand??! Rascal. Their first experience with ropy polys. Cute stuff. We finally made it to the reception. Not quite as disastrous as the ceremony, but close. They were both in “do not try to contain me” mode. Country club, playground, same thing. Please don’t eat the decor. Bless my little, busted-lip boy.
I adore my children so much. And in a few years, I will consider taking them to another wedding. But a wave of nostalgic forgetfulness will definitely have to wash over me first.